


The One That I Want

by Comatosejoy



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Auguste (Captive Prince) Lives, Domestic, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:55:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29295510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Comatosejoy/pseuds/Comatosejoy
Summary: Laurent is a young ingenue who meets Damen in the summer. What was once a summer fling turns into something else after Laurent discovers that he must stay in Ios for the foreseeable future. They agree to remain together, and Laurent takes an internship at Theomedes Inc., not realizing that the CEO is the man he's been romancing all summer.The Grease AU no one asked for.
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41





	The One That I Want

Hennike wasn’t getting any better. The arid, warm weather of Akeilos was supposed to help. That was why they’d rented a house for the season in Summer Palace, a tiny Akeilon town south of Ios. But it didn’t seem to matter how dry the air was or how many cups of tea Laurent brought her or how many prestigious doctors they dragged out to Summer Palace. Hennike wasn’t getting any better.

This was what Laurent was thinking as he tried to focus on the novel he was reading. He had reread the same passage three times. Each time, his mind wandered back to his mother, getting thinner by the day, sallow and smelling of antiseptic. He rolled onto his back, the wooden planks of the dock digging slightly into his clothed shoulders. From the water, Auguste swam laps slowly. 

“I think I might go jogging,” Laurent called to him. 

“Want me to come along?” Auguste asked, stopping his breaststroke and standing. The sea came up to just above his navel. 

“Nah, I just need to clear my head,” Laurent said, pulling his New Balances on from where he’d kicked them off to dip his toes into the water. He stood and stretched and, leaving his book on the dock, took off into a run. 

He didn’t stop until he came to grove of mandarin trees. He had never been this far from the house before, and he paused to pluck one of the ripened oranges from a tree branch. The grove was uphill, overlooking the sea, and he admired the view from where he stood. 

He heard a branch snap from several yards away. His eyes darted up and he tensed, seeing a man standing in the direction of the noise. 

“Can I help you?” the man asked in Akeilon, cocking his head to the side. 

Laurent took a step back from him, glancing around nervously. “What makes you think I need help?” 

“Well, for one thing, this is private property. There’s signs,” the man said. “For another, you look thirsty. Did you run here?” 

Laurent, a little sheepish, said, “I didn’t see the signs. I’m sorry.”

He took a closer look at the man. He was around Auguste’s age and tall. His body suggested that maybe he did a lot of manual labor--his muscles were large and well-defined and his skin was browned from the sun. 

The man laughed good-naturedly. “Would you like a glass of water?” 

Laurent hadn’t realized how far he’d run, and suddenly his throat was very dry. He nodded his head. 

“You see that villa up there? Are you okay walking that far?” the man asked, pointing to a large house nestled among beautiful, rolling hills. 

Laurent felt a little like a skittish animal being coaxed somewhere with a scrap of food. The gentle tone the man used only added to this feeling. Without answering, Laurent began to follow the man to the house. 

“Haven’t seen you around town. Where are you from?” the man asked politely, taking long, easy strides through the scrubland. Laurent stopped to pick a bunch of yarrow, crushing it absent-mindedly between his thumb and forefinger and smelling it. 

“Arles,” he said, realizing that the man was looking at his strangely. “I’ve got a lot on my mind. Sorry.” 

“Arles is a long way,” the man said as they approached the villa from the back. The man pulled a key ring from his pocket and unlocked the sliding glass door. The house didn’t look lived in, and Laurent guessed that this man managed the property while the wealthy owners were away. “My name’s Damen, by the way.” 

“Laurent,” Laurent said. “Is this a vacation home? Will you get in trouble for letting me in?” 

Damen laughed softly, making his way to the kitchen just passed the door. “I think I’ll be alright,” he said, getting a glass from the cabinet and filling it. 

Laurent took the glass and gulped it down in one pull. “God,” he breathed, refilling it to drink again. “I didn’t realize how badly I needed that.” 

“So are you going to tell me what a Veretian man is doing in the southernmost part of Akeilos, three miles deep into private property, looking very sunburnt, by the way, or are you trying to cultivate a sense of mystery?” 

“Is is working?” Laurent surprised himself by saying. 

“Yes. I can honestly say that this is the most intriguing thing that’s happened all week,” Damen said. “I’m fairly certain there’s an aloe plant around here somewhere. That is, if Lykaios didn’t kill it by mistake. Lykaios is the property manager.”

“I assumed you were the property manager,” Laurent said. 

“Owner, actually. Just got here today.” 

Well that explained why he wasn’t worried about getting in trouble. Laurent felt himself flush--a feat, considering how burnt his face already was. 

“Here it is,” Damen said, cutting off a piece with a pair of scissors and squeezing out of gel inside into a bowl. 

“You don’t have to do that for me,” Laurent said. 

“I want to,” Damen answered, not looking up. “You have such a lovely face. It’d be a shame to not take care of it.” 

Looking back, Laurent would know exactly why he crossed the kitchen and closed the distance between them. Hennike was dying, and a man was being nice to him, and that man was handsome and rich and kind. Hennike was dying, and that was out of his control, but this wasn’t. Tentatively, he placed a kiss on Damen’s jaw, and then his mouth. 

Damen, pulling back, looked pleasantly surprised, studying Laurent’s face, before brushing a lock of Laurent’s hair from his forehead. “Are you coming on to me?” Damen asked, a hint of mischief in his voice. 

Laurent felt his eyes roll of their own volition. This seemed to amuse Damen, who gave Laurent another kiss, this time exploring Laurent’s mouth with his tongue. 

It occurred to Laurent that, technically speaking, this was his first kiss. At twenty, he’d avoided dating of any kind in Arles, focusing on school and his family and finding most men his age to be very, very uninteresting. But this wasn’t Arles, and he was on a break from school, and Damen wasn’t his age, anyway. 

“Fuck me,” Laurent said. He ordered it, really, trying to make his voice as commanding as possible, trying not to tremble. 

Damen pulled away once again. “Laurent,” he said. “I don’t want you to think I’m not interested, because I am. But you seem--” he looked Laurent up and down. “--out of sorts.” 

Out of sorts. That was one way of putting it. Laurent thought about his mother who barely had the energy, these days, to get up and shower. He thought of her bony hands, sharply contrasted against his, when he’d sit by her bedside and talk to her. The tears were immediate. He couldn’t turn away, pretend he’d only had something in his eye. 

“Hey, hey,” Damen said, massaging Laurent’s shoulder. “Let’s sit down, come on.” 

He lead Laurent to a couch. Laurent was full-on sobbing now. He could feel his shoulders heaving. He didn’t want to think about how his face must look--likely turning purple from his crying. 

Laurent could feel things happening to him--Damen put a blanket around his shoulders, placed a box of tissues next to him, got another glass of water--but he only felt truly aware of how miserable he was. He got hung up on little things in his mind: three years from now, there will be new pop songs out, and his mother will never hear them. In a decade, Auguste will have children whose names his mother will never know. There will be new scientific discoveries, new books out, new types of cars and smart phones and lipsticks that Hennike will never see. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Damen asked after Laurent’s sobs had become smaller and more controlled. 

“My mom has cancer,” Laurent said. His voice was very, very small. “The air in Akeilos is supposed to help with the pain but--” he looked down at his hands, still stained yellow with the yarrow he’d picked earlier. “--she just looks worse every day. Watching it is torture.” 

“I lost my father last year,” Damen nodded sympathetically. “I know how helpless it can feel.” 

Laurent put his head in his hands. “I’m sorry. You’ve just met me. This is a lot, and you’re obviously on vacation, and you have no obligation to sit here and listen to me.” 

“There are worse ways to spend an afternoon than with an attractive blonde,” Damen said pleasantly. 

Damen, it seemed, was a natural caretaker. Laurent, who was not used to being taken care of, noticed this straight away. And Laurent decided that he didn’t mind being taken care of one bit.

___________________

Laurent found himself at Damen’s villa increasingly often. Hennike had begun sleeping through the day, and Laurent couldn’t stand sitting in the house and watching her. Instead, he picked baskets of mandarins, bringing them in to Damen’s villa, his hands smelling of citrus. Instead, he dug his toes into the sand of the private alcove on Damen’s property, watching as Damen swam. Instead, he watched Damen cook magnificent meals--paella, enmoladas, pasta from scratch. Instead, he leaned his head against Damen’s shoulder at night as they watched Netflix, feeling safe and comforted and, yes, taken care of.

Damen had not approached the topic of sex since that first day, when Laurent had all but thrown himself at Damen, and Laurent got the distinct impression that Damen was trying very hard to not make Laurent feel pressured to do anything. Twice now, Laurent had fallen asleep on the couch in the evening and woken up alone in the bedroom, Damen on the couch with a blanket lightly snoring in the morning.

But Laurent wanted to have sex with Damen, and not just because Hennike was dying and having sex felt like a good, self-distructive kind of activity. It was because Damen was sweet and easy to be around and listened to Laurent talking himself in circles about his mother. Something about Damen’s competence was intoxicating. It made Laurent want to give as good as he got. 

So, when Laurent arrived at the villa at noon, he grabbed Damen by the hand, and walked to the bedroom, and turned on the lights, and sat back on the bed expectantly. 

“I’m a virgin,” he said. It came out a little more nervously than he had intended, but he still positioned himself indolantly, as was habit, and maintained eye contact with Damen.

Damen took a step towards the bed, and then another, and soon he was leaning over Laurent, kissing his neck in a gentle way that caused Laurent to swoon. 

“We have all summer,” Damen said, dragging his teeth down to Laurent’s collarbone. “I’m very good at building anticipation.”

Laurent shivered, goosebumps raised on his arms.

___________________

“Are you going to see your secret boyfriend?” Auguste called as Laurent made his way from Hennike’s room. This caused Laurent to freeze.

“Who?” Laurent asked, too-casually. 

“Well, let’s see, you’re all of a sudden not miserable, coming home at weird hours, and sometimes not at all. It doesn’t take a genius,” Auguste said. He was leaning against the kitchen counter, a mug of coffee in his hand, looking awfully smug at having deduced something anyone with half a brain could have figured out. “Hey, before you go, come take a look at this.”

Auguste lifted up a magazine off the counter. Laurent padded over and peered at the article Auguste was indicating. A doctor in Ios was doing some sort of experimental treatment that had miraculous results. Two-thirds of his patients were in remission because of it. 

“Have you looked up his number? Called him?” Laurent asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. 

“That’s my entire project today,” Auguste said, sounding far too excited to have a task. Auguste had been away from work for too long, and with Hennike asleep almost all the time, there wasn’t much to do. Laurent had caught him yesterday rearranging the mugs in the cabinet by handle size. “But you might have to take the fall semester off from school. Unless you want to go back to Arles without us.” 

“No,” Laurent said, his eyes wide. “No. I can find an internship in Ios. Something.” He would never forgive himself if Hennike died while he was attending some fucking lecture thousands of miles away.

___________________

Laurent had started spending the night at Damen’s house. He had a toothbrush in the bathroom and a drawer with some of his clothes in it. Damen had had Lykaios pick up the types of food Laurent liked, and Damen had started referring to things as theirs rather than his: _our_ bed. _Our_ kitchen. _Our_ house. By late July, things were feeling very domestic and cozy.

And the sex.

Was sex always like this? Laurent didn’t have any other points of reference. Certainly if it was always like this, no one would ever get anything done. No, it had to be Damen. 

Damen, who had made him come four times in the space of an hour. Damen, who had carried him to the bathroom after he was too boneless and fucked-out to move and helped him shower. Damen, who brought him breakfast in bed and folded his laundry for him and let him pick what they watched on TV. Damen, perfect face and perfect body and perfect personality. Laurent could shout about it. Damen! Damen! Damen! 

Laurent was in an incredible mood as he walked back to the house his family had rented. The ocean looked bluer. The birds were chirping the most lovely melodies he’d ever heard. He could have danced into the living room, he was so happy. 

Auguste, sitting on the couch, looking very serious, caught him off-gaurd. Immediately, he assumed the worst. She died. She’s dead. Things were going too well with Damen. Laurent hadn’t been sad enough, and he hadn’t even been here when she’d died. Oh, God, she’s dead, isn’t she? 

“What’s happened?” Laurent asked. 

Auguste looked up from a stack of paperwork. There was joy in his voice as he said, “The doctor in Ios has agreed to take _Maman_.” 

Relief flooded through Laurent. She’s alright. She’s alive. “Thank God,” he said, clutching his chest. 

“We have to find a place in Ios. There’s some decent apartments near the hospital. Here,” Auguste said, handing a folder over to Laurent. “I looked up popular internships for your major. There’s this Akeilon company--Theomedes something--that does just about everything. They’re like Amazon but less evil, I think. Look into it.” 

Laurent nodded, stupid with happiness. Did he dare to hope? It seemed out of the realm of possibility that his mother might get better. For months now, he had been bracing himself for the worst. He flopped down on the couch and pulled out his phone, typing “Theomedes Ios,” into the searchbar. 

Theomedes Inc. was, indeed, like Amazon but less evil. They had their thumbs in a lot of pies, from what Laurent could gather, but the company paid every employee a living wage, didn’t use sweatshops or slave labor for their products, and had all kinds of progressive initiatives. And making photocopies and fetching coffee seemed a hell of a lot better than sitting nervously in a hospital waiting room, so he scrolled through the website until he found the application for interns, and filled it out.

___________________

Things moved pretty fast. Auguste found a house in Ios and a job in consulting and had his friend, Jord, ship most of their furniture down from Arles. Laurent had had an interview over Skype with someone at Theomedes Inc. and, because it was clear that diversity was important to the company, he laid his Veretian accent on very thick. Two days later, he’d gotten an email saying that he’d gotten the position.

And Damen was excited that Laurent wasn’t going back to Arles, even if it meant cutting his stay in Summer Palace a little short. 

“I work in Ios. We could--” Damen started. Laurent had never seen Damen flustered before, and found it endearing. “--I mean, if you wanted this to just be a summer thing, I understand.” 

Laurent had cocked his head to the side. He couldn’t imagine a reality in which Damen wasn’t there to cook him pancakes in the morning and rub his back at night. “Of course I don’t want this to just be a summer thing,” he said. 

Laurent hadn’t mentioned the internship to Damen--he had been too wrapped up in the details of this new experimental treatment, how his mom might get better, to mention something as inconsequential as an internship. 

“So, we’ll see each other in a few weeks, when you’re back in Ios,” Laurent had said. 

The goodbye had been painful, but at least it wasn’t forever. Laurent told himself that as Summer Palace got further and further away as he and Auguste and Hennike drove to Ios with their luggage in the trunk.


End file.
